


There's Always Tomorrow

by Madam_Marie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Baby Harry Potter, Bottom Remus Lupin, Depressed Remus Lupin, Depressed Sirius Black, F/M, Framed, Good Regulus Black, Hurt Remus Lupin, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), Minor Original Character(s), Modern Marauders (Harry Potter), Muggle Culture, Muggle Life, Near Death Experiences, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Peter isn't the spy, Remus Lupin & Regulus Black friendship, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Temporary Amnesia, Well see, Werewolf Remus Lupin, Young Remus Lupin, amnesiac remus lupin, lmao they are like 30 in this, maybe sex?, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-22 03:27:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17655191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madam_Marie/pseuds/Madam_Marie
Summary: When Remus Lupin is framed and believed to be the spy in the Order, he is believed to be dead. Dumbledore, however, saved his life, forcing the wolf to live his life in solitude. To escape his hauntig memories of the Mauraders, Remus takes an Amnesia potion and is allowed to live in the Muggle World! Will Remus learn to love his new life or will his past come back to haunt him?





	1. Haunted

**Author's Note:**

> Hey wolfstar hoes im back with another fic! Read tags and summary for more info. But I honestly dont know where this shit is going. If its confusing other chapters will explain shit <3 time for some hella remus angst and funny moments. Please comment and give feedback! I love you guys hopefully it dont get too depressing oof

It was at a young age Remus Lupin learned that praying was an action often made out of desperation. After his lycanthropy developed, agony became a constant in his life, one he had grown accustomed to. Yet for some reason, he found himself kneeling every so often. His palms pressed together and eyes closed, he asked for relief. Still, it was no shock when his pleas fell on deaf ears. 

Perhaps this action was simply out of habit.  
“Remus, did you pray last night?”  
Lyall would question him. 

“Yes.”

The same lie was always sliding off his tongue and leaving him empty like the bottles of pain pills littering his bedroom floor.

That damned bedroom. It started out as a nursery, painted a baby blue with white clouds scattered across the abyss of never ending sky. As his humanity slipped away, so did the comforting feeling that room once provoked within him. 

It soon resembled a prison more than a bedroom. The iron bars upon the window frames blocked the consistent rays of sunlights, the walls and doors beat to hell, scratches engraved deep into the foundation. 

What a shame it was, to see a bird trapped within a cage. A bird who had forgotten how to spread its wings. 

The little wooden house in the forest had gone from home to hell in a matter of time. Even so, an unbreakable connection formed between the beast and its prison. He concluded this attachment was his own twisted form of Stockholm Syndrome. 

God, Remus could still see the house in his mind. . He subconsciously memorized every minute detail of that structure. From the way the faded front door would creak when you opened it at the slightest angle to the washed cyan carpet fraying on the fourth step on the upstairs staircase, all of it was branded into his mind. 

Sometimes his mother, Hope, would burn candles. They always smelled of a different flower. Orchids, lavender, roses, hibiscus and so many more. Over years of burning, the wooden walls had absorbed the scents, creating the aroma of a garden tainted slightly with traces of gunfire.  
The fragrance of floral arrangements was a misleading one. Flowers did not grow near the Lupin household. Its outside appearance was as dull as the life he lead. There were three cobblestone stairs leading to that squeaky front door with rotting wooden railings that failed to do their job. 

Green grass was a rare sight indeed. The towering pine trees shrouded the ground from the sun’s rays, leaving straw-like grass drying beneath the shade. Layers of pine needles lurked within the piles of grass, pricking every inch of soft skin you would have to offer. 

Dark oak logs created the exterior of the cabin, laying upon one another in a geometric pattern. A variety of browns splattered the aging material, which Remus found quite a challenge to match with a paint brush. 

Finally, he set down the artistic utensil, laying it upon his pallette. 

His masterpiece was complete. 

The painting was a projection of the memories trapped inside his head. 

The light peeking through his dusty window rested upon the semi-wet paint, leaving it gleaming with white streaks. 

“Now where to put it,” Remus thought out loud, one of his long fingers stroking one side of his sandy blonde mustache. 

By now he had hundreds of canvases hanging in his tiny home. Perhaps the most heartbreaking aspect of his art was the fact they were not created by his conscious mind. Images of his past came as hallucinations and dreams. Their eternal beauty was often overlooked, due to the pain that would crack through his skull during these experiences. 

The man wished to forget these haunting moments in his life. They haunted him constantly, sharply banging around his head until he could no longer bear it. With nowhere to go, he found transferring them onto a canvas was the only hope of any relief. 

Somehow, over eighty percent of those pale white canvases had become stained with images of a deer, a dog and a rat. Or as everyone else knew them, James, Sirius and Peter.  
They were the one chance he had to live, the one chance to happiness His two best friends, who he called Prongs and Wormtail, and his fiance, who he called Padfoot. 

To this very day they were etched into every fiber of his being. 

He knew that somewhere in the whole wide world, they were living out the last of their youth together. James was probably spending his nights in the company of his true love and wife, Lily Evans. His son, Harry Potter, was likely already gifted in magic, much like his father and Godfather. 

Peter would always be by his side, backing up his horrible decision making. Maybe one day the man would find his true talent, as magic was clearly not one of them. 

As for Sirius, Remus hoped he was still the same person he had once known. Those enigmatic blue eyes burning into the souls of anyone brave enough to look into them. His waves of silky black hair trailing behind him as if it was a horses mane while he rode his motorcycle into the night sky.

The werewolf could just picture him nurturing his Godson. What a beautiful sight it must be. 

The thought was enough to send a stabbing pain through his chest. The familiar feeling provoked the burning sensation in his face which lead to shimmering tears swelling in front of his pale blue eyes. 

Lupin felt his tears become unstoppable, his eye sockets unable to contain the rivers flowing out of them. 

He pushed himself up and willed his aching body to go into his bedroom. There was no shame in admitting the fading beige walls had become covered in paintings of Sirius. The only man he ever loved and will love. 

The image of his face worked into every aspect of the werewolf’s life. His hallucinations only grew increasingly more agonizing as time went on. 

Countless times he had mistaken others for the animagus. Strangers became more like the man every day. A man he had never laid eyes upon would morphe into his ex lover while he suffered through his post-hallucinogenic episode.

Shaggy black dogs would pass him on the street and Remus always found himself pathetically following it around like a lost wolf pup waiting to be brought home. 

Slumber did not even give the man a taste of freedom. That damn face was always in his dreams and nightmares alike. His body had even taken up sleep-walking or rather, painting. 

In the early hours of the morning Remus’s mournful eyes would snap open revealing he was no longer in his bed.

Instead, he would be sitting in front a canvas, Sirius’s face illustrated upon it. 

Every layer of his personality had been tainted by the other man. A stain seeping deep into the fabrics of his very existence

The werewolf’s eyes fell upon the dusty window in the room, the stars painting a dark sky. Deafening silence was peacefully broken by the pitter patter of raindrops upon the glass and occasional peals of thunder in the far off distance.  
Since when had time moved this fast?  
His prime years gone in a flash. 

The clock struck midnight, a reverberating ring bouncing off the crumbling walls. 

Remus stood solemnly at the end of his bed, empty gaze falling on the fraying wool comforter. His rough hands moved down the shimmering buttons of his blue button-up sweater, naturally unbuttoning them after years of habit. 

The article of clothing loosened on his thin torso and lazily hung open revealing annihilated pale skin. With a slight push, the right sleeve descended down his arm, revealing his slightly toned shoulder, the left sleeve following suit. 

With nothing to cling to, the cyan fabric slid down his arms and fell at his heels, lighting flashing as it fell and streaking white upon every object in the room. 

The man took a step forward, his knees pressed against the edge of his mattress. The thunder finally arrived, prompting him to lean forward and allow his aching body to collapse face forward onto the sheets. 

His senses became overcome by the scent of laundry detergent and fabric. 

The wolf dragged his body further onto the bed in a slow crawl until his head had finally rested upon a tear soaked pillow. 

Remus turned his body towards the empty side of the bed and cautiously lifted the heavy blanket to reveal his partner for the night. 

He gently pulled the canvas out from under the covers, placing it onto the neglected pillow next to his. Rough fingertips trailed down the thick layers of paint that came together to mimic the face of Sirius Black. 

The man allowed his fingers to remain on the image’s smirk for a few unnecessary seconds. 

“Shall I see you in my dreams tonight, love?” He asked the painting. 

However, it was a question he always knew the answer to. 

The memories of Sirius would forever haunt his slumber.


	2. Red on White

Remus’s gaze drifted up and down the stainless mirror, admiring the way the white tuxedo complemented his lanky body. 

  
The black button up beneath the jacket was clean and tailored, not a single wrinkle in the smooth material.

 

His scarred hands moved to straighten his satin bow tie, completing the graceful look. 

 

When was the last time he felt this  _ attractive?  _

Perhaps he never did prior to today.

 

His sandy blonde hair was done neatly, most of it slicked back with a bit of fringe hanging above one of his gleaming blue eyes. 

 

Butterflies flew throughout his stomach, sending a thrill up his spine and through his heart. Excitement burned through his body like acid burns skin. 

 

Merlin,  he couldn’t stop smiling. 

 

His cheeks burned from the impenetrable expression on his face, a red blush further displaying his ecstacy. 

 

“Remus,” a voice broke through the comforting silence. “It’s nearly time.”

 

It was his dearest friend, Lily Evans. 

 

She stood there sporting a gorgeous cerulean gown, sleeveless and hugging her waist, the skirt ruffled, resembling ocean waves on a warm summer day.  

 

Her silky red hair was done up in a bun, curled and bouncing with her every movement. Her outfit was complemented with various shades of grey eyeshadow painted above her soulful blue eyes. 

 

Within her hands was a bouquet of flowers, the color scheme synonymous to her multi colored nails.

 

The sound of her white high heels tapping against the tile resonated throughout the room as she approached the werewolf. 

 

Suddenly her tiny hand was resting upon his shoulder, the smirking ginger observing her own reflection. 

 

“We look pretty hot for a pair of nerds,” she laughed. 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Lupin started with a chuckle. “But damn right we do.”

 

“Here,” the red head replied, handing him the bouquet of flowers. 

 

Every aspect of the assortment was fantastical. A variety of flowers placed strategically ranged from white roses to dark blue daisies. The fragile petals rested against each other, creating a pleasing contrast. 

 

“They’re beautiful,” he murmured to himself. 

 

“Let’s be off then, shall we?” Lily suggested. 

 

With a nod, the charismatic young woman was leading him down a carpeted hall of a church. The wine colored material was soft and fragile beneath his shiny black dress shoes, smelling lightly of some sort of cleaning solution. 

 

In the near distance, a pair of dark oak wood doors became visible. Gigantic with a variety of patterns engraved into their foundation. 

 

Each step taken towards them seemed to steal another breath from Remus’s chest, creating a form of desirable suffocation. This was it. 

 

Everything he ever wanted was right behind that door. His to keep. 

 

A let out a deep sigh as Marlene, who was waiting by the doors, kindly tucked a strand of silky hair behind his ear. 

 

The sound of a muffled orchestra could be heard from behind the layers of heavy wood. 

 

The chords mixing together into a high pitched melodies, lifting the hearts of any who listened. The rhythm sank into his veins, his heart beating uncontrollably and overflowing with joy.

 

As the symphony approached the chorus, Lily and Marlene took their places at either side of the doors and pushed them open, the dimness of the hall illuminated by the welcoming rays of gleaming sunlight. 

 

It was like walking into heaven. The dream-like white light casting over a crowd of hundreds, sitting in fine attire. 

 

The doors had finally been fully pushed open, the werewolf descending down the aisle, a sea of voices cheering as blue petals fell upon the groom. 

 

Remus stepped forward confidently, clutching the bouquet between his two hands, the white fabric of his tux flowing behind him like a cape. 

 

A white knight emerging in an abyss of darkness.

 

The orchestra played on, “Here Comes the Bride” reverberating off the stained glass windows.

 

White smiles gleamed at him as he approached the altar, charmingly strolling down a blood red carpet. 

 

What a blessed sight it was- all these amazing people gathered in one place. 

 

He nodded as he passed those in the aisles. 

 

Dumbledore, Hagrid, Minerva and a majority of the Order. The more faces he recognized, the warmer his heart felt. At this point it was on fire and spewing out lava and nearly melted. 

 

His eyes wandered frantically in an attempt to distract himself. Even so, his efforts were futile and eventually his gaze fell onto the object of his affection.

 

The most gorgeous being to have ever graced the world. Sirius Orion Black.

 

There he stood, ocean blue eyes watering in excitement and adoration. Silky black hair falling against a jet black tuxedo. A smile across his face, a smile he wore better than anyone ever could.

Remus was sure his heart stopped multiple times just at the sight of his soon to be husband. 

  
  


By Sirius’s side was of course, James Potter, grinning almost manically. Bless his soul for dealing with their shit in the dormitory! 

 

Peter Pettigrew was there as well, standing on the opposite side of the altar, honored to take the role of Remus’s best man. 

 

Time would wait for no one, despite the fact the werewolf hoped to cherish this moment for eternity. As it continued on, he found his thin legs pushing his body up a set of stairs into a close vicinity of his fiance. 

 

Merlin, he could smell the other man now. For once, he didn’t completely smell of wet dog, although the wolf had taken a liking to it (not that he would ever admit this). Instead, he smelled more like a fresh breeze with a hint of ocean waves. It was uncannily similar to the fresh breeze that would flutter throughout his heart whenever Mr. Black approached. 

 

The two lovers stood face to face, a sea of blue meeting a sea of blue. This was where they were meant to be. Destiny forever tied them together, an unbreakable red ribbon. 

 

Sirius’s strong hand soon took hold of his groom’s, locked eyes never breaking, leaving Remus lost within his eyes. 

 

Before the wolf was able to navigate his way out of the animagus’s eyes, vows had already spilled out of his mouth, rings had been placed upon fingers. 

 

“You may now kiss the groom.”

 

Lupin nearly died on the spot. His heart stopped once again, as if it didn’t do it enough already. 

 

Blue flames in his husband’s eyes sparked as these words reverberated off the walls and into his ears. 

 

Remus gently shut his eyelids and took a deep breath, his chest expanding under the lavish tuxedo. Before he could stop himself, he leaned over, preparing to taste Sirius’s pale lips. 

 

**PAIN.**

 

His eyes shot open, a white light flashing across his vision. A tearing sensation manifested on the left side of his chest. 

 

Paralyzed, the wolf trembled, unable to process the agony ripping through his nerves. 

 

He willed his unwilling eyes to look towards his chest.

 

**RED.**

 

His suit, once as white and pure as snow, was stained an ugly red. Little drops of crimson leaked down the jacket, leaving violence in their wake. 

 

Remus’s vision doubled as seconds ticked by until it briefly focused on the small knife sticking out from his chest. 

 

The silver blade was ironically beautiful, shimmering under the sunlight and covered in red. It’s handle was not visible, as a pale hand clutched it. 

 

He followed the hand with his eyes. It lead to a black sleeve, leading to a long, muscular arm. The arm of Sirius Black. 

 

A grin stained his beautiful face, who starred at him in amusement. 

 

When would this piercing feeling subside? Would all of his love bleed out before he met his peace? 

 

Where had everyone gone? Where were the bridesmaids smiling in high quality dresses and groomsmen wearing matching suits? 

 

Everything had faded to black. 

 

***

The man’s eyes shot open, a strained gasp of air filling his lungs to their mass capacity. 

 

Red blood that had been running down his chest was no more. No blade pierced his flesh, no stained tux upon his body. 

 

Instead, his torso was covered by a silky warm blanket, still bearing it’s ancient scars. 

 

He sat up, rubbing his tortured eyes. The familiar ache still resounded in his skull, the same sun rose above his little house deep within the wilderness.

 

The cycle was still in effect, never ending and tedious. 

 

Drink the same cup of coffee, shower in the same bathroom with the same shampoo, paint images of the same people. 

 

Of course, none of this would happen before he wrote in his log. A dream log. 

The point of it was not to reminisce, but rather to give him pictures to paint. 

 

Living in solitude for over two years annihilates one’s imagination over it’s span until there is nothing left besides that of the unconscious mind. 

 

_ 11/24 _

 

_ Last night I dreamt of a wedding. To be particular, it was my own wedding. I recall wearing a white tuxedo, which is the most common wedding attire for Muggles. Of course, I was marrying Sirius. The only man I would ever consider marrying. The dream is likely a result of our real attempt at the ceremony. It was to happen of April of last year, but then everything happened and-  _

_ I lost everything. I’d rather not get into that again.  _

_ The first half of the dream was notably pleasant. I saw some faces I haven’t seen in ages, in both my dreams and reality. Lily, Dumbledore, even that damned Snivellus. I also saw my own reflection. It was far different from the one I see nowadays. My face looked much less troubled. Not necessarily because of the scars, but all of my features seemed more youthful and lively. In that reality it would appear I had much better luck. Well, at least until Sirius planted a blade into my chest. Just once couldn’t I have a wizard-free dream? There’s always tommorrow.  _

 

_ -RJL _

 

His scarred hand slammed the brown leather book shut. The black pen was placed into a drawer and for the rest of the day, it’s existence would be ignored. (Remus often found himself exploring the Muggle World as he could never return to that of the Wizards). 

 

The werewolf was unsurprisingly in awe when he discovered the advanced technology of the Muggles. Computers, phones, the internet. Occasionally he’ll go to a library and go on their public Mac and look at photos of cute animals. 

 

Most importantly, he applied for a library card. Reading was all he could do to pass the time, as he was living in poverty and would likely never own any type of electronic. Plus, he could borrow books for  _ free.  _ Thank Merlin, or as the Muggles would say, thank God. 

 

Satisfied by his journal entry, Remus set off to transfer the images of last night onto a canvas. He could take his sweet time. Afterall, there’s always tomorrow. 

  
  



End file.
